The Green Mummy

“I have the blood of the royal Inca race in my veins,” he said with pride.

“Ha!” murmured the widow to herself, “then that accounts for your love of color, which is so un-English;” then she raised her voice. “Tell us all about it, Don Pedro,” she entreated; “we are usually so dull here that a romantic story excites us dreadfully.”

“I do not know that it is very romantic,” said Don Pedro with a polite smile, “and if you will not find it dull – ”

“Oh, no!” said Archie, who was as anxious as Mrs. Jasher to hear what was to be said about the mummy. “Come, sir, we are all attention.”

Don Pedro bowed again, and again swept the circle with his deep-set eyes.

“The Inca Caxas,” he remarked, “was one of the decadent rulers of ancient Peru. At the Conquest by the Spaniards, Inca Atahuallpa was murdered by Pizarro, as you probably know. Inca Toparca succeeded him as a puppet king. He died also, and it was suspected that he was slain by a native chief called Challcuchima. Then Manco succeeded, and is looked upon by historians as the last Inca of Peru. But he was not.”

“This is news, indeed,” said Random lazily. “And who was the last Inca?”

“The man who is now the green mummy.”

“Inca Caxas,” ventured Lucy timidly.

Don Pedro looked at her sharply. “How do you come to know the name?”

“You mentioned it just now, but, before that, I heard my father mention it,” said Lucy, who was surprised at the sharpness of his tone.

“And where did the Professor learn the name?” asked Don Pedro anxiously.

Lucy shook her head.

“I cannot say. But go on with the story,” she continued, with the naive curiosity of a child.

“Yes, do,” pleaded Mrs. Jasher, who was listening with all her ears.

The Peruvian meditated for a few minutes, then slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat and brought out a discolored parchment, scrawled and scribbled with odd-looking letters in purple ink somewhat faded.

“Did you ever see this before?” he asked Lucy, “or any manuscript like it?”

“No,” she answered, bending forward to examine the parchment carefully.

Don Pedro again swept an inquiring eye round the circle, but everyone denied having seen the manuscript.

“What is it?” asked Sir Frank curiously.

Don Pedro restored the manuscript to his pocket.

“It is an account of the embalming of Inca Caxas, written by his son, who was my ancestor.”

“Then you are descended from this Inca?” said Mrs. Jasher eagerly.

“I am. Had I my rights I should rule Peru. As it is, I am a poor gentleman with very little money. That,” added Don Pedro with emphasis, “is why I wish to recover the mummy of my great ancestor.”

“Is it then so valuable?” asked Archie suddenly. He was thinking of some reason why the mummy should have been stolen.

“Well, in itself it is of no great value, save to an archaeologist,” was Don Pedro’s reply; “but I had better tell you the story of how it was stolen from my father.”

“Go on, go on,” cried Mrs. Jasher. “This is most interesting.”

Don Pedro plunged into his story without further preamble.

“Inca Caxas held his state amidst the solitudes of the Andes, away from the cruel men who had conquered his country. He died and was buried. This manuscript,” – he touched his pocket – “was written by his son, and details the ceremonies, the place of sepulchre, and also gives a list of the jewels with which the mummy was buried.”

“Jewels,” murmured Hope under his breath. “I thought as much.”

“The son of Inca Caxas married a Spanish lady and made peace with the Spaniards. He came to live at Cuzco, and brought with him, for some purpose which the manuscript does not disclose, the mummy of his father. But the manuscript was lost for years, and although my family – the De Gayangoses – became poor, no member of it knew that, concealed in the corpse of Inca Caxas, were two large emeralds of immense value. The mummy of our royal ancestor was treated as a sacred thing and venerated accordingly. Afterwards my family came to live at Lima, and I still dwell in the old house.”

“But how was the mummy stolen from you?” asked Random curiously.

“I am coming to that,” said Don Pedro, frowning at the interruption. “I was not in Lima at the time; but I had met the man who stole the precious mummy.”

“Was he a Spaniard?”

“No,” answered Don Pedro slowly, “he was an English sailor called Vasa.”

“Vasa is a Swedish name,” observed Hope critically.

“This man said that he was English, and certainly spoke like an Englishman, so far as I, a foreigner, can tell. At that time, when I was a young man, civil war raged in Peru. My father’s house was sacked, and this Vasa, who had been received hospitably by my father when he was shipwrecked at Callao, stole the mummy, of Inca Caxas. My father died of grief and charged me to get the mummy back. When peace was restored to my unhappy country I tried to recover the venerated body of my ancestor. But all search proved vain, as Vasa had disappeared, and it was supposed that, for some reason, he had taken the embalmed body out of the country. It was when the mummy was lost that I unexpectedly came across the manuscript, which detailed the funeral ceremonies of Inca Caxas, and on learning about the two emeralds I was naturally more anxious than ever to discover the mummy and retrieve my fallen fortunes by means of the jewels. But, as I said, all search proved vain, and I afterward married, thinking to settle down on what fortune remained to me. I did live quietly in Lima for years until my wife died. Then with my daughter I came to Europe on a visit.”

“To search for the mummy?” questioned Archie eagerly.

“No, sir. I had given up all hope of finding that. But chance placed a clue in my hands. At Genoa I came across a newspaper, which stated that a mummy in a green case – and a Peruvian mummy at that – was for sale at Malta. I immediately made inquiries, thinking that this was the long-lost body of Inca Caxas. But it so happened that I was too late, as already the mummy had been sold to Professor Braddock, and had been taken to England on board The Diver by Mr. Bolton. Chance, which had pointed out the whereabouts of the mummy, also brought me at Genoa into relations with Sir Frank Random” – Don Pedro bowed his head to the baronet – “and, as it appeared that he knew Professor Braddock, I thankfully accepted his offer to introduce me. Hence I am here, but only to hear that the mummy is again lost. That is all,” and the Peruvian gentleman dramatically waved his arm.

“A strange story,” said Archie, who was the first to speak, “and it certainly solves at least one part of the mystery.”

“What is that?” demanded Mrs. Jasher quickly.

“It shows that the mummy was stolen on account of the emeralds.”

“Pardon me, but that is impossible, sir,” said Don Pedro, drawing up his lean figure. “No one but myself knew that the mummy held two emeralds in its dead hands, and I learned that only a few years ago from the manuscript which I had the honor of showing you.”

“There is that objection assuredly,” replied Hope with composure. “Yet I can hardly believe that any man would risk his neck to steal so remarkable a mummy, which he would have a difficulty in disposing of. But did this assassin know of the emeralds, he would venture much to gain them, since jewels can be disposed of with comparative ease, and cannot easily be traced.”

“All the same,” said Random, looking up, “I do not see how the assassin could have learned that the jewels were wrapped in the bandages.”

“Humph!” said Hope, glancing at De Gayangos, “perhaps there is more than one copy of this manuscript you speak of.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“The sailor Vasa might have copied it.”

“No.” Don Pedro shook his head. “It is written in Latin, since a Spanish priest taught the son of Inca Caxas, who wrote it, that language. I do not think that Vasa knew Latin. Also, if Vasa had copied the manuscript, he would have stripped the mummy to procure the jewels. Now, in the newspaper advertisement it stated that the bandages of the mummy were intact, as also was the verdant case. No,” said Don Pedro decisively, “I am quite of opinion that Vasa, and indeed everyone else, was ignorant of this manuscript.”

“It seems to me,” suggested Mrs. Jasher, “that it would be best to find this sailor.”